


your heart is my perfumed garden

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, THIS IS ALL THERE IS TO IT, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: Marie & Sanson, exchanging presents and opening them together. A secret santa gift for Toa (@hiyashinko on Twitter)!





	your heart is my perfumed garden

**Author's Note:**

> I guess both of the section could be read alone, but, joined together, they made for a wonderful story. I've never planned it to be that way, but somehow it works out :D
> 
> Toa, I hope you enjoyed this! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! <3

" _A kind face is a precious gift_."

- Francis Brnardone

 

The night was silent, in line with the adage of the ‘silent night’ before Christmas. If Chaldea was a miniature of Earth, then it is surely living up to its name, with festive decorations here and there, and even snow in the battle simulation room. If one were to look outside, well, although the world outside is continually covered in snow due to where the observatory was located, then now it is suddenly more appropriate. 

He felt guilty sneaking off like this, but the look of disappointment on her face earlier today when he showed up empty-handed to the ‘Christmas Room’ (as the children—well, Jack, Nursery, the little King of Heroes, Alexander, Arturia Lily, and Jeanne Alter Santa Lily—dubbed it) remained on his mind even after the lights in the observatory had been long turned off and everyone had went to sleep in anticipation of tomorrow’s celebration. 

It took him a while to think about it and then procure the item, but he hoped that it would be worth it. Even if he was unworthy…he wanted to see the smile on her face.

The door slid open, and Sanson tensed for a little, hoping the worst—that one of the children, especially Jeanne Alter Santa Lily or Gil, would still be up and about—but there was nobody inside. He breathed a little sigh of relief. Now to put her present under the tree…

He placed the small package addressed to her under the glowing tree, and breathed another sigh of relief. It is done. He can sleep now. He doesn’t care if that effete, obnoxious man Amadeus is going to make fun of him. 

His train of thought was cut short by the sound of the door sliding open behind him. He immediately tensed again, his mind racing— _who could it be, at this hour?_

“Oh, you’re here,” a light, airy voice greeted him and Sanson tensed a little more. “I was wondering where you went…”

He turned around, knowing that there is no point of avoiding facing the owner of the voice. The eternal, everlasting queen, of crystal palaces and of beautiful things…the queen that he had betrayed during his lifetime as an executioner.

There she stood, sparkling even in the half-darkness of the room, a half-smile on her face.

“This isn’t what you thought,” Sanson quickly said, because it’s easy to assume the worst from him. Amadeus certainly would expect the worst from him, if he saw him like this. 

Her smile doesn’t falter. Sanson cursed himself mentally for being so stupid. Of course she wouldn’t assume the worst from him, she _is_ Marie Antoinette, after all. 

“I saw you on the hallway,” she said, by way of explanation, “and I wondered what is up.” 

There was a momentary pause, and her expression shifted into that of concern. “Are you okay, Henri?”

“I- I’m fine,” he hastily answered, surprised by her question although he knows that he shouldn’t be. “More importantly…what are you doing here? I apologise, what I mean is…do you have any trouble sleeping, my queen?”

She frowned, even if only lightly, and Sanson felt the urgent need to get rid of it from his queen’s face, no matter how. She was always smiling, even to the end…and he hated it when she frowned. It doesn’t suit her.

“No,” she admitted, quickly turning her frown into another cheerful smile, and Sanson felt grateful, “I was…well, actually, I was worried about you. You looked so…so troubled, earlier.”

“Am I?” It was his turn to frown. He does not like to worry her, especially to this level. “I was merely thinking, that’s all.”

She found herself a seat, and patted the space beside her. “Would you care to tell me about it, Henri?”

He found himself speechless, and awkward. But he couldn’t resist her, so he sat down beside her, a retainer suddenly finding himself getting full attention from his queen. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Well…” he started, trailing off because he honestly doesn’t know what to say and how to phrase it. “I- well, I had been looking for a present for you. I came here this late at night to put that gift under the tree, that’s all. I wanted you to find it tomorrow morning and smile…I- I mean!” He could feel his cheeks burn, and he avoided her gaze. “I just wanted you to smile, my queen. Even if I am…even if I am unworthy of your smile.”

There was silence filling the night and the space between them, though Sanson—perhaps it was just his own impression—felt like that space is shrinking, for some reason, though it felt like eternity. But part of him wanted it to be like this forever: sitting side-by-side with Marie, together, sharing a silence.

He felt her hand touched his lightly, and his cheeks burned even brightly. “I never said you were unworthy of my smile. Tell me, who told you that? Was it Amadeus? Or d’Eon? I never thought of such a thing, in all honesty.”

Her confession felt like an unburdening of something heavy, like something had finally been lifted from his chest, and suddenly Sanson can breathe. It was a strange, strange thing.

“It’s…nobody. It was just my own thought, my queen.” He admitted, feeling embarrassed at the wrongful assumption. But, he thought, it’s true, no matter what she says, he would still be unworthy of her. After all, he did betray her in her life. He did murder her in cold blood. No amount of atonement could rectify that. 

“Hey,” she suddenly said, not unkindly, and he couldn’t help but look up at her. “It’s midnight. Merry Christmas, Henri,” she smiled, brightly, and he felt like all his problems and self-loathing are melting away, like shadows before the sun itself. He couldn’t help himself—he laid his hand before her, and he forgot what he had been saying before. 

“Merry Christmas, my queen,” he looked at her, his sunflower, giving her his best smile, “Viva la France. I hope you’ll like the present I picked for you, tomorrow morning.”

She let him hold his hand, and, still holding his hand, she stood up, prompting him to do the same. “Let’s open them together, tomorrow morning,” she exclaimed, excitement obvious, and Sanson couldn’t help but felt excited, too, and giddy, like a boy again. 

“Yes, let’s do that.”

“For now, let’s go to sleep,” she said, still not letting go of his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” 

“I’ll see you,” he told her, smiling his best smile, feeling every bit as radiant as her. “My queen.”

* * *

Morning comes in all its celebratory glory, and strangely, despite his lack of sleep—and his instinctive disdain for celebrations—Sanson felt a little giddy. He remembered the promise that he made with Marie last night, and got dressed quickly. He felt a little dumb feeling this way, as if he was a schoolboy again, making promises with someone on his level, someone who wasn’t the Queen of France, and someone who he certainly doesn’t deserve. 

But he remembered her smile, and he find it in himself the strength of wanting to _try again_ , of wanting to start again with a clean slate, despite his bloodied hands, to hell with that Amadeus.

He made his way over to the Christmas room, hoping that he would not be too late. 

It was already bustling with Servants, and he tried to find her amidst them. She was with the children, teaching them how to sing, with the Demi-Servant alongside her. Marie Antoinette, the last Queen of France, was positively glowing with joy.

And he, Charles-Henri Sanson, had never felt so nervous before. 

Thankfully, Amadeus is nowhere to be seen, for some reason. That was a small mercy, at least. 

He hovered in the periphery nervously, knowing full well that he should greet her first, but…he couldn’t help but enjoy watching her teaching the children how to sing Christmas carols properly (with an added ‘Viva La France’ at the end). It was adorable, and heart-warming besides. Sanson felt like he was intruding on something important, something private, and he felt all the more ashamed because of it, but at the same time, he couldn’t pull away.

“Ah, you’re here!” Marie exclaimed, noticing him first, and Sanson felt that his cheeks was already on fire, as if all the wildfires in the world has decided to visit him now, in the middle of winter. “I’ve been waiting for you. Now come, come, Henri, let’s open our presents!” She declared, tearing herself away from the children—who was looking at them curiously, which makes Sanson felt embarrassed even more—and lightly took his hand. “It’s time, after all. Consider it a queen’s edict. Merry Christmas,” she added, smiling her gentle, radiant smile.

“…Merry Christmas,” he said in return, still not fully in command of his faculties’ yet, and he vaguely realised that she led him towards the giant Christmas tree in the centre of everything—which seemed larger now, someone must have done that—and he let her, shyly. He also vaguely realised how this might seem to the children—who had started conversing towards themselves loudly, especially the boys and Jeanne Alter Santa Lily—but he find it in him that he couldn’t care anymore.

She doesn’t let go of his hand as she searched under the tree for both their presents, and when she found them, she looked positively divine. “Here,” she handed him her present for him. “I hope you’ll like it,” she finally let go, and he held her gift in wonder, for it was as if all the precious things in the world had been passed on to him. And Charles-Henri Sanson never know how to handle precious things. “You _should_ like it! Consider it another queen’s edict,” she added, smiling.

“And I hope you’ll like mine,” he mumbled, as she turned his gift in her hand, the gift that she’d caught him putting underneath the tree last night. Both of their gifts are small, compact boxes, though his was wrapped somberly—too somber for her, he now realised—while she went with the festive option, though still elegant, and Sanson couldn’t help but wonder what Marie thought of him, with the gift.

“Please open yours first, my queen,” he told her, smiling slightly. “It is my gift to the wonderful, eternally radiant Queen of France, after all.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Henri,” she said in return, mirroring his smile, but wider, “I am touched that you thought that way about me. It is such a beautiful thought, and you know I like beautiful things. But, let’s open our presents together.”

Since she put it that way, and Sanson couldn’t say no to her (how could he), he gave her another smile before unwrapping the gift, and she, too, followed suit. 

There was a box, inside, an elegant box, and inside the box, he found an elegant, black silk tie, with a matching tie pin. While she, he knows, would find a box, too, inside the wrapper, containing an elegant pair of white gloves. 

“…thank you, Henri,” she said, after a brief amount of silence that made him feel tense, and, surprisingly, _very_ surprisingly, he felt a softness touching his cheek. 

She kissed him on the cheek, and while everybody’s watching—though he was pretty sure the Demi-Servant averted her eyes—he doesn’t care. He felt…strangely jubilant, freed. He smiled at her.

“Your gift is most wonderful…Marie. Thank you,” he told her. 

“Now, should we teach the children how to sing? I was doing that before you came,” she said, and, without waiting for his response, she already pulled him along. 

But he doesn’t really care, so long as he was with her. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I do love this ship. Comments and suggestions are welcome <3


End file.
